


your makeup stains my pillowcase (like i'll never be the same)

by hipsterchrist



Series: your favorite record [3]
Category: One Direction (Band), Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Anxiety, Coming Out, Crossdressing, Facials, Internalized Homophobia, Kink Exploration, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 01:46:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15208148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsterchrist/pseuds/hipsterchrist
Summary: niall isn't sure where this particular desire even comes from, is the thing. he just wakes up one day, blinks his bleary eyes at shawn’s sleeping face, and wants to see shawn wearing eyeliner.





	your makeup stains my pillowcase (like i'll never be the same)

**Author's Note:**

> I had a birthday between my last fic and this one so I'm even more too old for this now, but I'm out of excuses.
> 
> (Title from Fall Out Boy's "Of All the Gin Joints in the World.")

niall isn't sure where this particular desire even comes from, is the thing. he just wakes up one day, blinks his bleary eyes at shawn’s sleeping face, and wants to see shawn wearing eyeliner.

the thought is so sudden and alarming that it catapults niall out of bed and into the kitchen. he makes tea for himself and coffee for shawn before starting on breakfast. he’s in the middle of the scrambled eggs when he feels shawn against his back, arms slipping around his waist. he smiles to himself as shawn rests his chin on his shoulder.

“i like when we get to spend mornings together,” shawn mumbles. he’s clearly not thoroughly awake yet. niall bites back a grin.

“it’s nice, eh?” he says. he feels shawn’s grin against his skin. shawn kisses his neck.

“like sleeping with my own personal chef,” he says. niall laughs.

“so you're just using me for my culinary skills?”

“didn't mean for you to find out this way,” shawn says. niall laughs again, and shawn grins again, pressing his face to niall’s neck. “i love how happy you are in the morning.”

“i’m pretty happy all times of the day,” niall says. shawn hums. 

“but it’s like, your superpower in the morning,” he says. niall snorts.

“you're still asleep, yeah?” he asks. shawn groans. “your coffee’s ready, love.” niall points toward the counter, at the mug next to his. shawn makes a happy little noise and steps away from niall to grab his mug, emblazoned with the canadian flag. niall pokes at the eggs as he watches shawn take a long sip. when shawn finally lowers the mug, he looks significantly more aware of himself and his surroundings.

“if i ask you a question,” niall says, taking the eggs off the burner and giving them one final scramble, “do you promise not to read too much into it?” 

“well,” shawn says brightly, “i have an anxiety disorder, so probably not.” niall gives him a wry smile as he begins plating the eggs beside the bacon. “but i do promise to try really hard.”

“fair enough,” niall says. he stares down at the food for a long moment, suddenly frozen with his own nervousness. “it's not anything bad--i mean, at least, i hope you don't see it that way--it doesn't have to become anything--i just wondered, um.” he takes a deep breath and feels shawn right next to him now, shawn’s hand settling on his shoulder, a weighted calm. he looks up at shawn and asks, “have you ever worn eyeliner?”

shawn blinks for a moment, then shrugs. “sometimes a stylist will put some on that matches my skin tone,” he says. “they put it like, right on the--i think they call it the waterline? like, the inner rim of the eyelid, really fucking close to my eye. it makes me look more awake, i guess. but other than that, not really.” he narrows his eyes just slightly at niall as a smirk forms on his lips. “why? you want to see me in eyeliner?” niall blushes and shoves shawn’s plate at him.

“might do,” he says.

“hey,” shawn says quietly. niall looks up to see him smiling. “i’d do that for you, you know.” niall bites his lip.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” shawn says. there’s no hesitation in his voice or doubt in his expression. niall nods.

“breakfast first,” he says resolutely. “then, um, we can go to the nearest CVS?” he frowns. “they have makeup there, right?”

they do have makeup there. lots of it. niall feels a little lost as he stands in front of a wall of eyeliner and chews on his bottom lip. he doesn’t know a thing about these brands or what most of the words mean, and some of the names of this stuff are outrageously long. he’s pretty sure at least half of the terminology is entirely made up to sell women and girls more things they don’t need, and for a moment he hears eleanor’s soft, sweet tones in his head voicing his own present frustrations. he checks the time on his phone, glances furtively up at the security camera in the ceiling. he’s been standing here for four minutes, overwhelmed and anxious and thinking of shawn waiting in the car. niall takes a deep breath before reaching out and grabbing a plain pencil liner in brown, and then, without pausing to think, takes the black one next to it as well.

later, after enthusiastic blowjobs and lunch and a shared shower, shawn sits cross-legged at the edge of the bed and peers into a mirror that niall’s holding in front of his face as he applies brown liner to his eyelids. it’s slow-going, which is fine, because niall doesn’t want shawn to poke himself in the eye or anything, and he appreciates shawn’s dedication to precision. it’s just that niall is standing, looking down on shawn as he works, and his hands are shaking, not because of the mirror but because he keeps thinking about the black liner still in the shopping bag, untouched.

he doesn’t know why he bought it. the brown is perfectly fine for shawn’s eyes, suited to his natural coloring anyway, and whatever weird urge that’s found its way under niall’s skin today will surely be satiated by the sight of shawn’s big eyes lined with brown, and then he’ll just have this one black eyeliner pencil in his possession for no reason, and he’ll have to deal with returning it or tossing it or maybe giving it to maren the next time he sees her. god, why doesn’t he hang out with more women? there’s hardly ever a purse around him, something he could slip this into undetected. now it’s just something he _has_ , and for nothing. he doesn’t know why he bought it.

but--

later, much later - long after niall all but pounces on shawn wearing brown eyeliner, roughly kisses him until he’s breathless and pulls his hair and fucks his mouth until his eyes water and the liner smudges, long after shawn washes his face, long after niall catches shawn packing the pencil into his own luggage and blushes at the promising wink shawn gives him before kissing him goodbye, long after niall hits the road again for album promo - niall still has it. the black eyeliner. 

he keeps it close to him, in a bag he always carries, a bag only he ever opens. it’s locked away in a zippered pocket, safe from breaking. it’s opened now, the meager packaging having been slowly peeled off on the second day of his travels. he takes it out of his bag at night, alone in hotel rooms, twirls it in his fingers, frowns at it, drums it lightly against the pile of pillows. he removes the plastic cap, runs it over the smooth skin of the back of his hand, over and over until the point isn’t very sharp anymore, until it looks used.

shawn sends him selfies and facetimes with him while wearing the brown liner. it’s good - it’s _really_ good. shawn seems to love it, the reaction he gets from niall for such a simple thing. he knows exactly how good he looks, niall knows, but he still blushes when niall tells him, when he says, “next time we’re together, i want to come on your face while you’re wearing it.” at niall’s stammered request, shawn smudges it some himself so it looks thicker, so shawn looks used. 

they’re forty-six hours out from seeing each other for the first time in weeks when niall has the moment of weakness he’s tried to avoid since he walked out of that CVS.

“how do you feel about black eyeliner?” he texts to shawn, turning his head so the pencil in question is out of his range of vision, like if he can’t see it then it isn’t a problem.

“how do YOU feel about black eyeliner?” shawn replies, then, “i mean, do you wanna see me wear it? i can do that.”

“ya sure?” niall sends. “i don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to”

“i want to do what you like, babe. and you like me wearing makeup. that’s cool”

niall stares down at his phone, open-mouthed and frozen. his reads the message a dozen times but his eyes keep coming back to focus on _you like me wearing makeup_. he feels cold all of a sudden, exposed. he looks back at the black liner again, within arm’s reach across the bedspread, and scrambles to get under the covers, kicking hard to make sure the pencil is thrown off the bed in his haste. by the time he looks back at his phone, shawn’s sent him another message.

“u there, ni?” 

“yeah i’m here,” niall types.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry if i did,” shawn says. niall bites his lip.

“no, but it’s just eyeliner, ya know,” he sends. 

“i know,” shawn replies. “but it’s okay if it becomes more.”

\---

niall gasps at the sight, taking it in, and instinctively reaches for his phone. he gets as far as opening the camera and looking at the view on the screen in his hand before he even thinks to stop. he lowers the phone after another few moments, shaking his head as he does.

“sorry,” he says quietly, “don’t know what--” he makes a face. it seems too heavy-handed to finish the sentence, what with shawn in his present state and all.

“you can take one, if you want,” shawn says, voice sounding like gravel. “you can just delete it in like, one minute. how long does it take for it to store to the cloud? can’t be immediate, right?” niall shakes his head again.

“not chancing anyone else seeing you like this,” he says gruffly. “you look….” he swallows, bites his lip. his heart thumps hard in his chest. “ _mine_.”

“i _am_ yours,” shawn whispers, then winces like it hurt his throat. niall feels a twinge of guilt for being so rough, and it must show on his face because shawn shakes his head and smiles. “don’t feel bad. i wanted it. i still want it,” he says, louder this time. “it’s a good hurt.” niall nods, tries to smile back, but he keeps getting distracted by shawn’s face. he frowns and tosses his phone on the bed.

“i can’t take a picture, but i want to remember this,” he says. “can you just...stay still, exactly like this, so i can memorize you?” shawn nods. niall takes a breath and begins setting the view before him to exquisite memory.

shawn on his knees, naked, his bare skin flushed varying shades of pink and red, his chest and stomach glistening wet with his own spit, his own come. his hair an absolute mess of tangled waves, whole sections twisted still from niall’s fingers. if it weren’t for shawn’s face, this wouldn’t be a special sight at all, would fit right in the catalog of what they’ve done before, what they’ll do again. but shawn’s eyes are lined with black, smudged all around his eyes by niall’s thumbs before, and then smeared along with shawn’s sweat and tears during, and with niall’s come afterward. he reached out the moment his orgasm faded, too enthralled to think better of it, and spread a smudged print of black and white down over shawn’s cheekbone before swiping his thumb across shawn’s bottom lip. shawn licked his lips almost immediately, but a dark smudge remains there, and now niall reaches to touch two fingers to shawn’s neck where his come is slowly dripping. he gathers it on his fingertips, feeling shawn’s pulse quicken when he presses in a little harder than strictly necessary, and raises them to paint shawn’s lips. shawn shudders and groans and shuffles forward a bit, until his knees are almost touching niall’s toes.

“how do you feel about lip gloss?” niall asks, his voice thick. shawn’s mouth forms a punch-drunk smirk beneath niall’s fingers.

“how do _you_ feel about lip gloss?”

\---

the problem is that niall doesn't know what it _means_ for him to want this. he keeps thinking about what shawn looks like in eyeliner, imagining what shawn looks like in lip gloss and lipstick. he keeps getting hard over it, wanking to it in unfamiliar hotel showers. he keeps typing fractions of questions into google, opening and immediately closing youtube on his phone. it’s not until he looks out a heavily tinted van window in boston as they pass a cathedral that he’s able to put a name to the something-deeper-than-anxiety that he’s been feeling over this.

it’s _shame_.

the realization makes him feel even worse about the whole thing. he’s not ashamed of shawn, of how they love each other, of what they do, but he’s ashamed of _this_ , of how _into it_ he is, of how much more he might want. he wants to buy gloss for shawn to wear but keeps putting it off, and shawn offers every few times they talk to do it himself but niall keeps saying, “no, don’t, please, i’ll do it,” in a broken sort of voice that’s nothing like the lightheartedness he’s aiming for, and then he doesn’t because he keeps being terrified of what will come after the lip gloss.

brown eyeliner gave way to black eyeliner which has given way to lip gloss. niall is eager and scared but never at the same time, and constantly ashamed of all of it, of his interest and his hesitation. it feels _wrong_ to want this at all, much less as intensely as he does. it feels fucked up to want his boyfriend to look pretty like a girl. it feels like he’s betraying something - shawn, their relationship, his own thus far generally comfortable sexuality. it feels like he’s sick, like he needs a therapist or a priest or--

niall feels a bizarre pull in his chest to talk to someone _real_ about this, someone close, but his only four options all seem less appealing the longer he considers them. he’d rather die than give louis any additional embarrassing information about his sex life, and harry would likely offer up too many details of his own that niall doesn't exactly feel up to dealing with at the moment. zayn is probably technically the most equipped to have a decent conversation on the topic - niall knows perrie used to occasionally put makeup on him, because he used to see the evidence, and even the process once or twice - but the idea of talking to zayn about perrie seems at best ill-advised, at worst disastrous. and what would liam even _say_?

which is how niall ends up texting nick grimshaw.

he starts chewing on his bottom lip the moment he hits _send_ on a simple first contact - “if i ask you something very personal do you swear not to even hint at it on radio??” - but he thinks, perhaps arrogantly, that he can be vague enough with the follow-ups to not reveal too much. 

“hmmm it really depends, love,” nick responds, and then immediately after, “of course i’m kidding. anything for you, sweet niall. i know it’s hard to tell with my winning radio personality and all but i CAN keep a secret.” niall huffs out a laugh at that, because he knows. he shudders to think how many of harry’s secrets nick’s been keeping for years now.

“alright i’m trusting you with this one, grimmy,” niall replies. he takes a deep breath before continuing. “have you ever put makeup on a lad you're dating or fucking? or on yourself for a lad?” there's a long pause before nick answers, long enough for niall to start biting his thumbnail and stop twice over.

“may have once or twice,” nick sends. it’s only text but niall can hear nick’s suspicious tone in each letter. “i’ve been known to wear eyeliner in the bedroom on occasion. maybe a bit of gloss.” niall’s thinking of how to respond when another message comes through. “why is this an interest of yours? what lad exactly are you putting makeup on hmm?”

niall bites his lip, grinds his teeth. “the one i’m seeing,” he types and sends before he can hit the backspace key. there's an even longer pause then, a few apparently false starts of nick replying, and suddenly nick’s calling him instead.

“yeah?” niall answers.

“oh my god. the _lad_ you're seeing?” nick says. there's both incredulity and glee in his voice that makes niall want to simultaneously sigh and laugh.

“yeah,” he says instead, “the lad i’m seeing.”

“you're seeing a _lad_?” nick asks. “niall horan, are you _gay_?”

“no,” niall says.

“niall horan, are you _bi_?”

“yeah.”

“oh my _god_ ,” nick says. niall drums his fingers anxiously on his knee. 

“you can't tell anyone, grimmy, you really can't. please--”

“oh, niall, come now, darling,” nick says, a little defensively. “i would _never_ out anyone, least of all a member of one direction. who do you think i am - perez fucking hilton?”

“no, gross, of course not,” niall says. “sorry, i just--”

“i get it, mate,” nick says. “does harry know?” niall pauses, blinking. what a question.

“of course,” he says.

“oh, thank god,” says nick. he sounds remarkably relieved. “i can't wait to talk about this with him. out of everyone else in the band, we both really thought it’d be liam.” niall blinks at that, laughing big and bold.

“then you're both idiots,” he says.

“yes, well, people are full of surprises evidently,” nick says. “you're seeing a lad and you're - what? wanting to put _makeup_ on him? or does he want _you_ to wear it?”

“right the first time,” niall says, feeling nervous again. “it sort of came out of nowhere. he just--his eyes are so--and his mouth--”

“listen, do i know this boy?” nick asks. “i’m not like, digging. i just think it would help if i knew what he looks like.”

“you're digging,” niall says, but he's grinning as he does. 

“alright, _yeah_ , i’m digging,” nick admits, “but can you blame me? is he someone i know? i really could use a reference point, love.” niall clears his throat.

“um, i can't really--it’s not my place,” he says.

“oh, fuck!” nick says. “shit, you're right. i’m sorry, i didn't mean to ask you to out someone else. i don't need to know names! just--tell me details about his face that include actual adjectives. like, what _are_ his eyes _so_ , exactly?” niall laughs.

“uh,” he says. “bambi. bambi eyes.” there's a pause over the phone. it almost sounds like nick is choking.

“he’s got bambi’s eyes, alright,” nick says in a tight voice.

“not _bambi’s_ eyes!” niall says with a laugh. “just bambi eyes!”

“the eyes of bambi,” says nick, giggling.

“just big innocent doe eyes!” niall says. this conversation is relaxing him, at the very least.

“okay, alright, pretty doe eyes, got it,” nick says. “and what of his mouth again?”

“it’s--pink,” niall hears himself saying. he presses the heel of his free hand hard against his forehead. “like, even without gloss or anything. his lips are always just. pink. and full, like, bitten.” there's silence again for a moment, but it feels different this time.

“ah,” nick says finally. he clears his throat. “big eyes and a pretty pink mouth, hmm? sounds like you’ve got a prize, horan.”

“i do,” niall agrees.

“so what's the problem?” nick asks. “is he freaking out about the makeup thing?”

“no,” niall says quickly. “no, he’s all for it. he, um, he likes it, too.”

“ _oh_ ,” nick says, drawing it out as if he’s just solved a riddle. “so _you're_ the one freaking out about the makeup thing.” niall bites his lip.

“i just--i like to know what things mean, you know?” niall says. “and i don't know what it means, that this is something i like.”

“it’s okay to just want pretty things for yourself sometimes, love,” nick says softly, after a moment. “not everything has a deeper meaning.” niall sighs.

“i know,” he says. “it’s just that it feels...wrong, somehow.”

“ah,” nick says, “well, _that_ , my dear friend, is internalized homophobia.” niall blinks.

“what?” he says. “no, it's not. i never had any issue with, like, accepting myself.”

“don't feel bad,” nick says. “we’ve all got a bit of it. even the outest and proudest among us have to work it out of our systems. and if this is all you’ve got then you should be grateful because it should be a relatively easy fix.”

“grimmy, i don't know--”

“why do you think it feels wrong to get off on your boyfriend wearing makeup?” nick asks. niall hesitates.

“because--” he starts, stops, takes a breath. nick is patiently quiet. “because i don't--want him to be a girl. i like him, as _him_ , and that's enough. it should be enough. i shouldn't want to--my boyfriend wearing lipstick and eyeliner shouldn't, like--turn me on.” nick hums.

“because he’s a boy and you're a boy, and if you wanted a girlfriend, someone who’s _supposed_ to wear makeup, then you’d have a girlfriend, and not your boyfriend,” nick says. niall bites at his fingernail. he feels uncomfortably exposed.

“something like that, i reckon,” he says. nick hums again. niall echoes it, tension releasing in his mind. “sounds really stupid when i say it out loud, though, and hearing you say it.” nick clicks his tongue sympathetically.

“you were in close quarters with harry styles every day for five years so i know you know that sexuality and masculinity and gender don't work like that,” nick says. niall makes a small sound of agreement as he runs his hand through his hair. his nerves are finally starting to settle.

“i sort of thought i was done, like, thinking about my sexuality and whatever once i figured out the bi thing,” he says.

“and then you woke up one day and wanted to see your boyfriend made up all pretty and whatnot,” says nick. niall laughs.

“that is pretty much exactly how it happened,” he says. 

“see? it’s all very weird, niall, and none of it is easy at first,” nick says. “we're all just a bunch of freaks trying to get through each day on this tiny blue dot, love. whoever this _lad_ is, he’s rather lucky to get to try getting through it with you.” niall hums.

“think _i’m_ the lucky one,” he says.

\---

it’s strange to feel like he’s been given _permission_ , and by nick grimshaw of all people, but that’s exactly what it is. there’s power in permission, though, and now, somehow, niall is fearless.

he spends every free hour he has alone watching makeup tutorials and product review videos on youtube. he learns rather quickly that the reviews are more relevant to his research - _that’s_ where people detail how this eyeliner smears too easily and that lipstick has no staying power - but he finds the tutorials surprisingly soothing to watch and just as educational, albeit in a different way, so he streams them to the nearest TV while he scrolls down the list of products that run, smudge, flake too much, the ones all the youtubers said _not_ to buy, and buys them. he dumps packages out on the nearest surface and opens each item, examines them, glides eyeliner and lipstick on the back of his hands, twirls the mascara wand between his fingers at a safe distance from his eyelashes, with tutorial videos playing in the background. he likes the girls who are less professional and polished, who laugh at the camera and overshare about their personal lives as they go and don’t edit the fun stuff out, but the ones who really draw his attention are the men.

none of them look like shawn, and none of them seem to want to, if their contouring is anything to judge by. it’s easy enough to imagine each look on shawn though, and niall is happy to learn that he does, in fact, have limits to this particular desire, despite his previous fear. it’s intricate and elaborate and skilled, what these lads do to their own faces. they’re beautiful, stunningly so, but it’s not what he wants to see on shawn. it teaches him early on to forego foundations and powders and blushes entirely - shawn’s skin is just about unfairly flawless as is, and he blushes enough on his own to not need any extra color on his cheeks - and focus instead on the things meant for eyes and lips. he sends shawn pictures of his purchases and shawn replies with winking emojis and hearts and the ever encouraging, “i can’t wait to see you.”

niall holds shawn’s face still with one hand steady on his jaw as he brushes deep purple shadow over shawn’s eyelids and paints creamy black liner close to his lashes with a sharply angled brush. it’s not a perfect application by any means, but shawn is patient and eager and excitedly picks out a gloss from the small case that niall’s brought to shawn’s hotel room. it’s a lighter shade than what niall would’ve picked, but the peachy color looks incredible on shawn’s mouth regardless, makes his lips shine promisingly. niall lets shawn swipe on a bit of mascara before tugging at his hair, pushing him down on his knees.

when they’re finished, shawn looks entirely undone. mascara flakey and running short tracks down his cheeks, eyeliner smudged all over, peach lip gloss sloppy around his mouth. the purple shadow that brought out the pretty brown color of his eyes has been smeared by niall’s fingers, wet with niall’s come, and there’s a sticky ring of gloss around the base of niall’s cock. shawn tries to catch his breath and lick up the come on his chin all at once while niall stands back to appreciate the view.

“next time i think we should try a lipstick,” he says, glancing down at the glossy peach color that’s been dragged along his cock. “one of the wine reds.” shawn shudders and nods.

niall feels _so_ fucking lucky.

\---

they’ve got a flight to catch in the morning and niall is bone tired, but shawn’s wearing black liquid liner and burgundy lipstick when he climbs over niall sprawled across the bed and kisses his neck and says, “can i suck you off? i’ll do all the work and i won’t let it fuck up my voice. i’ll still make it sloppy - please, can i?” so niall doesn’t think he can really be blamed for giving in. he nearly falls asleep like seven times, but he’s glad he’s awake enough to see the aftermath of it, to see the mess of shawn’s face, the running eyeliner and the smeared lipstick. he does fall asleep while shawn is washing his face in the bathroom, though, and when he wakes up, shawn’s still got some vague traces of black rimming his eyes, and niall feels so grateful and in love that he just burrows closer and breathes in shawn’s sleepy scent.

they board a plane to ireland together and niall rents a car to drive them to mullingar from dublin. shawn sits in the passenger seat with his knees up at his chest, feet on the dash, and looks out the window as niall drives. people start waving to niall just about the moment they enter mullingar, and shawn grins at him every time he waves back.

“you’re like a king around here, eh?” shawn says. niall laughs.

“small town full of pubs and churches,” he says with a shrug. “they’ll take anything they can get, i s’pose.”

“they're right to be proud of you,” shawn says. niall blushes and bites his lip. an older woman who used to own a corner store niall frequented calls out to him when they're at a stop light, and he grins and waves to her.

“for the record, um, the people round here are good with secrets,” he says nervously. “no one’s about to run to the press or twitter and tell everything they witness from me. so, you know, if you wanted to hold hands or kiss me or something while we’re here, it’ll be safe. no one will know outside city limits.” shawn hums next to him, reaches forward to turn the stereo volume even lower.

“to be honest,” he starts quietly, “i don't really think i’d be that bothered if people outside city limits did know.” niall blinks and glances over at him before turning down the road that leads to his da’s house.

“yeah?” he says. shawn bites his lip and nods slowly.

“yeah.”

niall’s father has spoken to shawn on facetime before but this is the first time they’ve officially met, and niall didn't realize how anxious he felt about it until they walked in the door, but bobby greets shawn like he’s another son already, and shawn drops his best behavior shit almost immediately. niall doesn't really know what he was nervous about. he’s never had to make room for shawn anywhere else in his life. of course he fits here.

they walk down the sidewalks holding hands and everyone still greets niall like he knows them personally. some hang around for him to introduce them to shawn, and if they recognize the name, most of them don't show it. they smile like they're just happy for niall and then they keep moving. niall always forgets how much he misses this place until he comes back.

they meet up with bressie and eoghan outside niall’s favorite pub, where niall’s friends instantly whisk shawn inside and ply him with two pints.

“you don't have to do this,” niall says, “you don’t have to try to keep up with a bunch of irishmen,” but shawn gives him a look that tells niall he’ll be sick later, and nearly chugs them. at some point in the night, hours later, eoghan basically confiscates shawn to god knows where, and niall sits in a booth with bressie, quiet and lazily nursing his fourth pint.

“he’s a pretty one,” bressie says, and niall follows his gesture to see where, exactly, shawn’s disappeared to. he’s laughing hysterically and shaking his head at eoghan, who’s nodding enthusiastically and shoving him toward the bar again, his mouth open on what must be quite a shout to get shawn to hear him over the music and surrounding drunken conversation.

“that he is,” niall agrees. “i mean, tragically pretty, you know? like, it makes me sad sometimes.” bressie laughs.

“i get it,” he says, and then, softer, “you alright, ni? you’ve been a bit quiet tonight.” niall nods before huffing out a laugh.

“d’you ever come back here and look around and realize that everything you know about being a man, you learned in mullingar?” he says. bressie turns and smiles at him, blinding.

“yeah, i do, actually,” he says. “weird, innit? never knew it was happening until i left.”

“yeah,” niall says, then laughs again. “i should thank you for your part in mine, i think.”

“ _my_ part?” bressie asks, eyebrows high in surprise.

“you were the first lad i ever had a crush on,” niall says, grinning and hoping the dim lights conceal his the heat rising to his cheeks. bressie laughs.

“fuck, _really_?” he says. “i knew you liked me, but--the first?” niall nods.

“i never thought twice about it,” he says. “i just...realized it was okay to like more than girls, with you. and you're so open with your feelings and all that shit, you know? you’ve always been like that, even before you started showing it to your admiring public. i learned it from my da, too, but--i dunno. i don't think i’d be as comfortable with vulnerability if it wasn't for you.” he looks across the pub at shawn, now downing shots with eoghan. he smiles. “i don't think i’d have him.”

the next day shawn wears his darkest sunglasses and drinks water from a huge bottle as they walk round town for the slowest tour niall’s ever given. shawn finally shakes the last of his hangover a little after noon, and niall stands on his tiptoes and kisses him on the mouth, arms around his neck, like no one else is even around to see them. shawn kisses back with equal abandon, his surprise evident in the smile against niall’s lips. they startle when someone whistles loudly at them and they break apart to see bressie and eoghan again, meeting them for lunch. shawn groans dramatically at the sight of eoghan, who throws his head back and laughs. he puts his arm around niall’s shoulders as they walk inside.

“i like this one,” eoghan whispers to niall. “better than any girlfriend you’ve ever brought home.”

“i’ve never brought any girlfriend home,” niall points out with a smile, but he knows what eoghan means.

“see to it that you hang onto him,” eoghan says, rolling his eyes but grinning. “he’s perfect for you. he _fits_.”

that night shawn puts on deep mauve lip gloss and gets into bed with niall. it's barely big enough to share but they cuddle close, niall turning on his side and absentmindedly ghosting his fingertips over shawn’s lips in the semidarkness.

“did you mean what you said yesterday?” he asks softly. “about not minding if people know about us?” shawn slips his hand into niall’s hair and rests it there, running his fingers through it slowly, gently.

“i meant it, yeah,” shawn says. “obviously there would have to be like, statements and official coming outs and whatever, but.” he turns his head to look at niall and gives him a small, sheepish smile. “i want to go out with you in public and hold your hand. i want to do red carpets with you and post cute shit about you on instagram. i want to kiss you when we win awards and be your date to all your charity golf functions that i don't understand.” niall laughs, and shawn kisses his forehead. “i want to be able to tell twitter that half of my album is about you.”

niall hums and presses a kiss to shawn’s collarbone. “that wouldn't be too bad, i don't think,” he says.

“i know you like to keep your private life private,” shawn says quietly. “and this isn't something i require. like, i’m not about to dump you if you don't want to be out and public with our relationship. but, you know, if you decide you want to be, i’m for it.”

niall hums again. he can’t pretend he hasn't been thinking about it. before he can think of what to say now, though, shawn speaks up again, quiet and curious.

“can i ask you something about the makeup thing?”

“sure,” niall says, and tries not to feel anxious.

“is it just makeup?” shawn asks. “or does it extend somewhere past that?” niall blinks, furrows his brow and remains silent as he tries to figure out what exactly shawn is asking. “it’s okay if you don’t know yet,” shawn says gently. 

“no, i just--i don’t know, really, what you mean,” niall says. 

“i mean, does your makeup thing end with makeup and go no further, or do you also want to see me in, like, skirts or dresses or--i don’t know, lingerie?” shawn says. niall’s mouth goes dry.

“i--” he pauses to cough and clear his throat, blushing and feeling thankful that shawn probably can’t see. “i’ve never even thought about--uh--the clothes thing, to be totally honest with you. i’ve been pretty fixated on the makeup.”

“that’s fine,” shawn says, smiling kindly. “i’m glad you like the makeup stuff. i like it, too; i like seeing what it does to you.” niall laughs and tucks his head into the crook of shawn’s neck. just because he’s not ashamed anymore doesn’t mean he isn’t still embarrassed. 

“it’d be fine if you did eventually want the other stuff, too, by the way,” shawn adds.

“i, um, i might be open to it,” niall says. 

\---

it’s a hell of an understatement. niall wasn’t lying before - he really hasn’t thought about shawn wearing girl’s _clothes_ \- but ever since mullingar, possibilities have been racing through his mind faster than he can pin any one fantasy down to come back to later.

shawn suggested _lingerie_ , his brain keeps reminding him at the most truly inopportune times, and now he can’t stop browsing through online shops of the most expensive designer lingerie he knows about, resolutely ignoring all the memories he has of liam asking advice about what he should buy for sophia this time, and imagining shawn wearing each piece. more than once, he adds something to a cart, or starts to text shawn to ask for his measurements while looking at a sizing chart, but he stops himself every time, closes all the windows and goes back to thinking about just the makeup instead.

it takes him over a week but he finally realizes why he keeps hesitating, what it is that’s stopping him. it’s not shame this time, or guilt or embarrassment. it’s that it feels like-- _not his place_. why should he be the one to pick out lingerie and dresses for shawn when shawn’s the one who’ll be wearing them? he doesn’t want to accidentally get shawn something that doesn’t feel good on shawn’s body. the last thing he wants is for shawn to feel uncomfortable when he’s already making himself so vulnerable. 

so he rewinds his brain, or at least makes a concentrated effort to. he buys a few more eyeliners in shades of navy blue and hunter green. he orders lip pencils and matching cream formula sticks in wines and cherries and corals. he wanks to the dolled up selfies shawn sends, to the videos of shawn perfecting his liquid liner application. he pretends the heat doesn’t rise rapidly to his face and his mouth doesn’t water at the poorly lit photo he receives of shawn’s hand grazing his own bare inner thigh with the caption, “promise you’ll slide your hand real slow up my thigh like this the first time you see me in a dress?”

by a few strokes of firm luck and extremely intentional miracle, and after nearly five weeks of not seeing each other outside of their phone screens, they’ve both got two entire weeks off and a cabin rented in the mountains in tennessee. niall arrives just before noon and immediately unpacks his luggage, placing perfectly folded clothes in the drawers of the bedroom dresser. he means to walk around the cabin, give himself a little tour of the place before shawn gets here, but he sits down on the bed after shoving his empty suitcases into the closet and promptly falls asleep.

he wakes up hours later to the sound of water running in the bathtub and a note on the pillow next to his head that reads, scrawled in shawn’s quick penmanship above a heart, “i have a surprise for you! knock when you’re awake. NO PEEKING IN MY SUITCASE.” niall huffs out a laugh and takes a minute to stretch before walking to the bathroom door and knocking.

“i’m up, petal,” he says, loud enough to be sure shawn can hear him over the running water, and when he tries to turn the handle to open the door, he finds it locked.

“i’m still getting your surprise ready!” shawn calls from inside. niall hears the water shutting off. he frowns down at the door handle.

“what kind of surprise is this?” he asks. shawn’s laughter sounds faint.

“it’s, um,” he says, and then nothing. niall can hear footsteps. he presses his palm flat against the door.

“shawn?” he says. when shawn answers, his voice is clearer, like he’s standing right on the other side of the door, his mouth barely brushing the wood.

“it’s something you’ll like, i think,” shawn says, but he sounds unsure in a way that makes niall worried.

“you sure you’re okay?” niall asks. he rests his hand on the door handle again.

“yeah, i’m--i’m okay,” shawn says. then, quieter, and nervous, he says, “just--promise me you won’t laugh? even if you don’t like it.” niall furrows his brow.

“i won’t laugh, shawn,” he says, shaking his head even though shawn can’t see it. he rests his forehead against the door and hopes, maybe foolishly, that shawn can feel his sincerity. “no matter what it is. i promise i won’t laugh.”

“okay,” shawn says after a few moments. “i’m almost ready. just, uh, give me a couple more minutes, eh?”

“take your time, love,” niall says. he hovers by the door for another minute, listens to shawn moving around on the other side, before finally crossing the room again and sitting down on the edge of the bed. shawn’s nervousness has _him_ nervous, and he can’t exactly busy himself with folding clothes like he normally would when his already are and shawn’s suitcase is off limits, so all he can do is rub the palms of his hands over his thighs and concentrate on the feeling of the denim as he tries to breathe himself calm.

it’s been seven minutes and niall’s wondering if that's an appropriate amount of time for him to try knocking again when shawn’s voice sounds throughout the room, loud like he's standing close to the door again.

“okay, it’s all ready,” he says, too high-pitched to seem at ease, “remember you promised not to laugh.” niall frowns and runs his hand through his hair. he can’t fathom what kind of surprise would be making shawn so anxious. 

“i meant it,” he says. he thinks he can hear shawn sigh.

“close your eyes,” shawn says. “please. and cover them.”

“alright,” niall says, and does as shawn asks. it does nothing to ease his nerves, but he’d do just about anything right now if it would help ease shawn’s.

“okay,” shawn says. “okay.” the door lock clicks. the handle squeaks. niall keeps his eyes closed and covered, even after he hears the door open and shawn step out into the bedroom. he bites his lip as he listens to shawn take a few deep breaths, and then shawn clears his throat. niall swallows.

“okay, you can look,” shawn says, his voice so quiet it’s barely audible. niall moves his hands away from his face, blinks his eyes open, and looks toward shawn. his breath catches.

shawn is wearing….

shawn is wearing--

shawn is wearing smokey purple eyeshadow, jet black eyeliner, cheap mascara on his long lashes. shawn is wearing deep red lipstick topped with gloss in the center of his perfect lips. shawn is wearing a polo shirt that would be nothing special if it wasn't cut differently from every other polo shirt shawn’s ever worn, tight at his shoulders and narrow at his waist.

shawn is wearing a skirt. it’s cute and pleated and identical to what niall’s seen countless women wear on golf courses and tennis courts. it's _terribly_ short on shawn, shows so much thigh that it must barely cover his cock. shawn seems hyperaware of the revealing nature of his choice, starts tugging self-consciously at the hem of the skirt, like he’s trying to pull it down more.

niall can’t catch his fucking breath. niall can't even close his fucking mouth.

“i know girls usually wear shorts under these kinds of skirts but i--” shawn says, hunching his shoulders and not meeting niall’s eyes. “i figured you wouldn't want me to.” niall shakes his head, still struggling to find words. his brain has gone entirely blank.

“i shouldn't have done this,” shawn says after a few long silent moments. “i’m sorry, i didn't mean to make it weird. i’ll just go change--”

“no!” niall says, and suddenly he’s crossing the room, grabbing shawn’s hand, keeping him from disappearing back into the bathroom. shawn is trembling in his early stages of panic. niall circles each of shawn’s shaking wrists with his fingers and squeezes, looks up into shawn’s face until shawn finally meets his eyes.

“how could you think i would laugh?” niall says softly. “shawn, you're--you’re _beautiful_.” shawn’s face goes red and he turns his head away again. niall reaches up and touches shawn’s jaw, lets shawn lean into it. “you're always so beautiful and you--you did this for me and i can't--shawn, you're so beautiful and i’m so lucky.”

shawn turns back to him, a tiny smile forming on his face. “just kiss me,” he says, and niall does, rocks up to stand on his tiptoes and pulls shawn down with a hand on the back of his neck. the slick color on shawn’s lips slides between their mouths and niall can't even feel bothered, just moves to kiss shawn’s jaw and neck, leaving a mess of red in his wake as he pulls at the hem of shawn’s shirt.

“can i?” he asks.

“yes, yeah, please,” shawn murmurs. 

niall slips his hand under shawn’s shirt, still sucking marks into his neck - they actually have time this go round, they can leave as many marks as they want for the next week and a half until they have to stop and let them all fade. niall drags his blunt fingernails up along the taut skin of shawn’s stomach, swallows the vibrations of shawn’s whine with his mouth over shawn’s throat, and tries to concentrate on leaving a map of bruises, something to watch shawn absently press his fingers into tomorrow and flutter his eyes closed at the sting. he goes to press his hand over shawn’s heart but his fingers get caught on--

_oh._

“shawn, are you wearing--” he starts, pulling back and looking at shawn’s flushed face with wide eyes, and shawn just bites his lip and nods.

“i wasn't sure how involved you wanted this to be,” he says, “but i just--i wanted to show you that i’m all in.”

“holy fuck,” niall says. shawn’s laugh sounds like relief. “come here, on the bed, now, come here,” niall demands as he pulls shawn over to the bed and pushes him back onto it. shawn holds the waistband of his skirt secure as he shuffles up the bed so his head is on a pillow and niall is knelt between his legs.

“want me to take the shirt off?” shawn asks, a coy lilt to his tone, and niall practically growls in response. shawn laughs again, like he’s finally getting comfortable with this, and sits up just enough to pull his polo shirt over his head, tossing it aside. niall’s breath leaves his lungs in a punch at the sight of shawn’s broad shoulders and chest, at the sight of shawn in a bra.

it’s one of those trendy bralette things, flimsy and lacy and sheer. shawn must have gotten as small of a cup size as he could but there's still a bit of bunching where he has nothing much to fill it out. niall’s fingers dance over the wine red lace, tracing the floral pattern of the cups up to the thin black satin straps and back down again. he brushes his palms roughly over the cups and shawn swears under his breath, blushing blotchy pink down his chest, and niall narrows his eyes and smirks at him.

“you like the way it feels,” he says. shawn huffs out a laugh that gets choked off into a moan when niall rubs the same spots again, dragging the lace over shawn’s nipples. shawn’s hands go to niall’s shoulders and squeeze. niall grins wickedly and does it again, more gentle and teasing, and watches hungrily as shawn arches his spine and throws his head back. his neck and jawline are marked with lipstick and bruises, all put there by niall, and niall presses harder again, closes his eyes against the strangled groan that the sensation wrenches from shawn’s throat.

niall moves away, steps off the bed long enough to remove his clothes completely, and when he returns, kneeling between shawn’s legs, he stays there, goes slower this time, pressing soft kisses to each of shawn’s calves and knees, listening to shawn’s breathless pleas. niall slides his hand slowly up shawn’s thighs, under the devilishly short skirt, and lowers his head to kiss there, too, to suck bruises into the soft skin, to leave bite marks over the muscle. he gets as far as a soft nip to the inner thigh when he sees it. 

“holy _fuck_ , shawn,” he says, sitting up again and staring wide-eyed at shawn, who’s back to smirking, although this time he at least looks like he’s barely holding it together as well.

“you know i’d never half-ass something like this,” shawn says. niall flips the skirt up to reveal the panties and sits back on his heels to really have a look. the lingerie seems to have come as a matching set, lacy and red and floral patterned, but where the bralette bunches a bit with what shawn lacks, here the material stretches and bulges with what shawn proudly possesses. shawn is hard, must have been from the moment he pulled the panties on in the bathroom, and the head of his thick cock pokes out from under the thin black waistband, beads of pre-come dripping onto shawn’s stomach. cut high on shawn’s legs, the panties show off his hips, the gorgeous muscles leading to his pelvis that niall can never resist biting. it’s all here on display under rough red lace, all for niall, who can’t stop running his hands over shawn’s thighs.

“you’re, like, the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen,” niall says, his voice hoarse. “i can’t believe you just--you’re--”

“yours,” shawn says softly, one hand resting on his own stomach, the other twisting at his own hair. his pupils are blown, his breathing shallow already, and niall feels like he’s feasting on shawn just looking at him, at this stunning picture shawn makes, feels like he’ll never be sated enough to stop, but he squeezes hard on shawn’s thighs, watches shawn gasp, and bends down again. he mouths at shawn’s cock through the lace without any preamble, hears shawn cry out above him, and sucks harder along the shaft, drooling the whole way, up to the head of shawn’s cock. he licks there, swirls the tip of his tongue around it like shawn loves, and then sucks it into his mouth. it’s barely more than a tease - only what’s poking out of the panties, nothing to be truly satisfying - but it makes shawn whimper and put his hand in niall’s hair.

“please, niall, please,” he says. “please fuck me. i need it--” niall mouths back down over the lace, presses a sloppy kiss to shawn’s balls, and sits up again.

“there’s lube in the top bedside drawer,” he says thickly, but shawn shakes his head.

“i’m ready,” he says breathlessly. “i’ve been ready.” niall licks his lips and looks down, the air going colder in his lungs. carefully pulling the lace material to the side, he presses a finger to shawn’s hole and groans when he feels the familiar slickness. 

“is this what you were doing when i knocked on the door?” niall asks in a rough whisper, lifting his gaze to shawn’s face again to see the way shawn’s mouth goes slack when he slips his finger inside. “were you fingering yourself open for me? getting yourself ready so we wouldn’t have to stop for prep?” shawn shudders and nods.

“i hoped--i knew--if you saw me like this, if you liked it, i wouldn’t want to pause for anything,” he says, sighing when niall adds another finger. “i wanted you to just be able to-- _ah_ \--just take me. it’s been over a month, niall, please--”

“i’ve got you,” niall says, but he frowns as he pulls the panties down shawn’s legs, sad to see their departure even though his view of shawn’s pretty hard cock is now clear. shawn laughs at his disappointment.

“that’s not the only pair i brought,” he says. niall blinks up at him.

“oh?” he says. he’s too far gone to be embarrassed at his voice breaking, but shawn laughs again.

“i brought all kinds of things you might like,” shawn says softly, smiling. “we’re just getting started, babe.” niall hangs his head for a moment, steadying his breathing, before looking up again.

“i need to be inside you, like, _now_ , so are you sure you’re--”

“ _yes_ , niall, fuck me, come on,” shawn says, urgency overtaking him again, and niall pulls him down the bed by his hips before lining himself up and entering shawn in one smooth stroke. shawn throws his head back again, crying out, and for a moment niall is worried that it’s too much too soon, that shawn needs more prep, that shawn’s _hurt_ , but shawn scrambles to reach for niall’s shoulders and says, “come down here, please, niall, i need you closer,” in such a sweet, small voice that it nearly breaks niall’s heart.

he does as shawn says, bends low over shawn’s chest and kisses shawn’s sticky lips as he begins fucking into the tight heat of shawn’s ass. shawn wraps his arms around niall’s neck and kisses back while he can, but mostly he just opens his mouth to niall’s, sucks at niall’s tongue when he feels it against his own, and whines high in his throat with every hard thrust.

“it’s been too long, niall,” shawn says, words slurring. “i can’t go another month without you. we can’t-- _fuck_.”

“won't have to, won't ever have to again, i promise,” niall murmurs, driven by the headiest combination of love and lust. he looks down between them and sees the skirt, hiked up over shawn’s waist, and groans, slips his hand down to grab at the soft cloth, to grip it tight and pull so shawn’s hips meet his own as his pace quickens.

“oh fuck, oh fuck,” shawn gasps, then niall reaches up with his other hand and tugs shawn’s hair. shawn comes on his stomach, on the skirt, with a long, rough shout and niall’s name on his lips. niall doesn't stop but he slows his thrusts again, waits for shawn to come to his senses enough to give him a thumbs up and a lazy smile before he speeds up once more.

“god,” shawn groans, pliant and grateful. “you're not gonna come inside me, are you? you're gonna come on my face.” niall hears the slight disappointment in his tone, knows it’s been awhile since he _hasn’t_ come all over shawn’s gorgeous dolled up face, knows that shawn misses being filled. niall wants to give him what he wants, but he does love seeing shawn’s face wet and shiny with come, lipstick and eyeliner smudged everywhere.

he glances down between them, acting on pure instinct when he swipes his fingers through shawn’s come and gives shawn a questioning look. shawn knows what he means to do immediately, licks his lips and nods enthusiastically, and niall reaches out to touch his face. he drags his fingers over shawn’s fluttering eyelids, smearing shadow and liner and mascara with shawn’s own come before reaching down to gather more. he presses his wet fingertips to shawn’s lips and slips them into shawn’s mouth, feels it close around his fingers, feels shawn sucking at them, then pulls them out slowly, spreading lipstick down over shawn’s chin, up toward his cheeks.

god, niall wants this to last, wants to make shawn come again, but he looks down and sees the skirt, sees the mess he's made of shawn’s face, and knows he won't last much longer.

“shawn, i--fuck, i can't--” he says, regret in his voice, but shawn shushes him, grabs at his shoulder again as he rubs the bralette lace against his nipple himself.

“give it to me,” shawn says, “fill me up.” niall makes an embarrassing whimpering sound and nods, follows shawn over the edge. he keeps thrusting until his thighs ache and his cock is spent, but when he moves to pull out, shawn shifts so his legs are around niall’s waist, his feet pressing into niall’s lower back.

“please stay inside, just for a minute,” shawn begs, even though he doesn't have to. niall kisses him again, sweet and slow this time, until shawn moves his legs to let niall pull out and flop down on his back next to shawn on the bed. it takes a few long minutes before their breathing returns to normal, and finally shawn says, “i seriously can't do another month like that without you. a few weeks here and there is one thing, but. a whole month without seeing you even _once_.” niall looks over to see shawn shake his head and shut his eyes tight, like it hurts him to even consider.

“i meant it when i said we won't have to,” he says quietly. shawn opens his eyes and turns his head to look at niall, a question in his eyes. niall clears his throat. “you said in mullingar that you were up for being public with this. is that still true?”

“do you have any idea how hard it is to not post all the pictures i sneak of you when we’re together to instagram?” shawn asks, a smile playing on his lips. niall laughs.

“let’s do it,” he says. “let's let them know. this week.”

“this week?” shawn says, grinning excitedly.

“i’ll talk to my people tomorrow, and you talk to yours,” niall says, nodding. “we can make a plan for the reaction or whatever. but let’s do it.” shawn turns to his side and kisses niall, and all niall can taste is lipstick and shawn’s come.

“ha ha,” shawn says softly when he pulls back, still smiling. “now it's all over _your_ mouth.”

\---

shawn is in the kitchen, cooking breakfast in his boxer briefs, as niall finishes editing the picture on his phone. he looks up to let his gaze wander over shawn’s figure for probably the dozenth time since they woke up an hour ago, taking in the marks on shawn’s neck and shoulders and chest and stomach. there's more on his thighs that niall can't see, but he knows they're there, waiting for him to press harshly down on later while shawn wears a pink satin nightie and fucks him. he wishes, not for the first time, that he could post a photo that shows some of the marks. shawn’s long pretty neck covered on love bites maybe, or the scratches on shawn’s back, or the red sensitive skin around shawn’s nipples.

but what he’s got will do just fine - the view _and_ the picture.

“gonna post it,” he says. shawn looks at him and grins, picks up his own phone from the counter and unlocks it.

“i’ll be the first to like it,” he says. niall bites back a smile and looks back down at the screen, hits _post_.

it appears at the top of his timeline as soon as it refreshes. a photo of two hands, one with a tattoo of a swallow, their fingers intertwined.

“everything feels right since you came along,” the caption reads. “happy birthday @shawnmendes”

shawn is the first to like it.


End file.
